Spumoni
by shywr1ter
Summary: Tony to the rescue, then Ziva to the rescue, leads to the questioning of a rather crumbly Rule 12. Unused 1st try in NFA Secret Santa exchange.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Last December I posted a story, _Comfort and Joy,_ written for sapphyre_blu in NFA's Secret Santa fic exchange – but it was the second try at her prompts. This was the first. It kept growing and getting unwieldy and, I suspect, even less of what she wanted than what she got. Still, this one was fun to write, so I decided to finish it. There are three parts to this story, almost all completed. Depending on final edit, Parts 2 & 3 will either be posted as one installment or two.

sapphyre_blu's complete set of prompts for this exchange were "Tony serenades Ziva OR exhausted Tony gets comfort." Figures I wouldn't be happy unless I tried to include both. All comments and reactions welcome and appreciated.

**Belated Happy Holidays, everyone! **

_**SPUMONI**_

Part I.

Ziva David was angry. She was angry she wasn't driving, she was angry at the blizzard-like conditions which had made so many matters in this fiasco ten times worse than they had to be, but more than anything, she was angry at her foolhardy, pigheaded, brave and big-hearted partner, whose latest antics were the source of all the rest of her anger.

Deep down, she knew her nearly irrational anger was simply her relief from the nearly as irrational fear and worry she'd felt when she got a call from Gibbs, already in Pennsylvania for the holidays, that Tony had been swept up in the FBI's call for an inter-agency manhunt, and in only twenty nine hours had managed to, in this order, find the alleged dirtbag in a child-abduction scheme; get wet, get colder, and drown his phone in apprehending the man and securing him to a tree after extracting from him where he'd taken his victims; locate the small camp shelter where, this time, five young girls were held captive, all of them cold and dehydrated and bolted to the floor in potentially life-threatening, decaying weather; get wetter and colder as he went back to flag their whereabouts with torn pieces of his shirt for the other search teams to find as he returned to try building a quick fire in old stone fireplace to warm them; and, finally, set back out the way he came to catch the attention of another FBI team in the area. Ziva didn't want to think about adding in the thirty-six hours he'd had prior to that, before being released to four whole days off over Christmas, when team Gibbs had no more than a very few bat-naps at their desks as they closed in on their own fugitive, or about Tony being on his own during a manhunt, or his losing his phone or his pneumonia-scarred lungs. She most definitely didn't want to think about how angry Gibbs would be that Tony took this assignment when he was too tired even to drive home safely, let alone brave the weather or a serial kidnapper, or why he hadn't been partnered up, even it if was the FBI. Above all, she didn't want to think about the conflicting messages they'd gotten about his condition once he'd been found, which seemed to waiver at many, varying points between 'fine' and 'needs to get to an emergency room _now_.'

She gritted her teeth as she and the pair of FBI evidence techs, from whom she had managed to hitch a ride to the scene, bounced around in a late model, four wheel drive vehicle that NCIS _ought_ to have too, driven by someone clearly more adept at negotiating the piling snow than she. Events made her want to shoot something or hit someone, but mostly made her rethink the past seventy-two hours and feel her most scathing anger at herself for not somehow sensing that Tony was in trouble.

This was _so_ DiNozzo, she fumed, so perfectly defined why she alternately loved him for _him_ and raged at him for his recklessness. When she'd arrived at FBI headquarters – _much_ later than she should have been notified, for which she knew both she and Gibbs would have Fornell's hide (or try for the Director's) in coming days – initial reports were coming in that searchers had found what had to be DiNozzo's trail, one he'd marked for them to find, followed by sporadic reports first that they'd found their dirtbag, bound and slightly bleeding, then found his young victims and the NCIS agent who'd located them.

"How much longer?" Ziva snapped.

"Ten, fifteen minutes, maybe, maybe more the way the snow is piling up. You work with this DiNozzo guy, you said?"

Ziva rolled her eyes, knowing that by virtue of their all being in the same vehicle for the past thirty minutes, during which time she had said as much, the driver knew full well she did, and he just thought this was a genteel way to reopen the conversation. From his drawl she assumed he considered himself a Southern gentleman, but at the moment she didn't have any interest in niceties. Still, he was the one who talked the others into letting her come along without having to wait for the brass' okay, so she owed him something. "Yes." She gave him that much.

"Some hot dog, huh?"

Ziva frowned. "Hot dog?"

"Cowboy."

She still didn't get it, really, but took what they meant from context implied. "He would like to be James Bond, sometimes." She begrudged them. They'd given her a ride, after all. "Or Magnum."

That got appreciative grunts from the evidence techs, each of whom looked a bit awed by the field agents they supported. Their shining eyes definitely had a 'geek' look about them, and she felt her mood sour even more to realize that they actually _admired_ Tony's foolhardy rescue.

She frowned at herself to focus, aware that until she could see Tony herself – and vent her relief-fueled anger at him – she would be on edge. With a long, controlled exhale, breathing out her building thoughts and flexing her hands with the frustration of not being behind the wheel herself, she distractedly answered the techs' questions and focused more on the scenery as they left the main road. The wooded, rolling land was crossed by a river and ravines that fell a good number of feet, usually not enough for a fatal drop but with the worsening conditions, still a danger.

She felt her heartbeat pick up when she saw clustering emergency vehicles, one ambulance pulling away slowly through the snow and another being loaded. With only a brief thanks to her driver, she hopped out before the vehicle stopped and went immediately to the FBI agent who seemed to be directing the others.

"Special Agent DiNozzo?" she demanded. "You found him?" As the man opened his mouth to reply, all he'd managed was the first part of a nod before she interrupted, "where is he?"

The man pointed down along a gully by the river. "He found the girls in small shelter on past that bend. They were all chained, and he couldn't get them loose with what he had, so he marked the area to alert another team before going back to them."

_'Another team_,' she noted for later. _Why was __**he**__ not allowed a team? And did this man not know everything else Tony had managed, to solve **their** case? _"He is alright?" she clipped.

The man broke eye contact to watch the second ambulance start off. He shrugged, "he insisted the girls go first; there were five of them so both ambulances were full."

"_Is he alright?"_ she demanded again, feeling a rising fear. This time the man nodded, though he still didn't make eye contact. His nod was jerky, awkward; again, a shrug.

"Yeah, he was talking ... joking ... we have another ambulance en route."

Ziva worked to contain her anger – and her worry. Glancing up at the sky and the snow that seemed to be picking up, she pressed, "How long?"

"Twenty minutes on a clear day. Today ... not so sure. They're coming from the next county over."

Finally relenting enough to offer a terse nod, Ziva turned to head down the slope toward the river. The man grabbed her arm. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! His going off alone is what put him in this situation," the agent growled. "I won't have you doing the same thing..."

"I am not," she hissed through clenched teeth as she yanked her arm away. "I am going to assist my partner."

She hadn't seen it from the road, but as she found the narrow trail that bordered the stream that wound back through the woods, Ziva caught the fine scent of wood smoke, and after several minutes on the trail could see the small shack below, a thin stream of smoke arising from its chimney. _Signs of life. _Better understanding now why Tony would have stopped to build a fire, especially if he himself might be growing too cold or weary to be sure he could make it back to the others, she half ran, half slid down the snow-covered slope to the shack and burst in, surprising only one of its inhabitants.

Tony was sitting on a bench near the rough stone fireplace, looking more grey than pale – his lips were becoming a shade of purple and he was listing a bit as the FBI agent with him – looking green from more than just with her inexperience – was trying to put a pressure bandage on his thigh, his pant leg already stiff with blood, enough that it likely had a part in his problems staying upright. Ziva's unexpected entry brought the agent's head up in surprise, and she was still struggling to unholster her weapon when Tony chuckled. "Snow-covered winter ninja? Nice one. I guess I _am_ hallucinating," he said to the younger agent with him, as if she had accused him of precisely that same thing before Ziva arrived. "Very Special Agent Ziva David ... Equally Special Agent Melinda Capper. FBI," he added, with a nod and a wink, for Ziva.

Ziva pursed her lips to keep from exploding – from anger, relief or disbelief at the circumstances – as the FBI agent finally managed to free her gun. She had already caught the "NCIS" on Ziva's parka, even before Tony's introduction, and left her gun in its holster. Still, she kept her hand still at the ready, and her eyes on Ziva, as the "winter ninja" moved close to the injured agent, a worried hand falling across his brow and cheek, and fingers tracking the pulse along his neck.

"You're his partner?" the agent asked, sounding skeptical. "He said..."

Ziva nodded quickly, interrupting, and only later regretting that she had not waited the additional thirty seconds it would have cost her to learn just what Tony had said. "I will stay with him. I want you to find the first deputy sheriff with a car – no, with one of those ... those vehicles with the large tires, yes? That are made for this weather. You bring him here and you tell him I need his help to get Agent DiNozzo to the hospital. If you do not find one – ask your technicians, Sam and ... and David, to let us use theirs..."

"Wait, you can't just..." the FBI agent began.

But Tony had straightened and beamed in woozy delight. "Sam and Dave? _Really?_"

Ziva rolled her eyes, but when Agent Capper still stared at her, unmoving, Ziva said, "I got a ride from them in their crime-lab-all weather vehicle. It could make much better time to a hospital than a car would."

"Ziva!" Tony insisted, fighting heavy eyes and chattering teeth. When she swung around to look at him with one of those _'what now?'_ looks, he laughed, "c'mon – Sam and Dave? You rode here all the way from the District with blues icons and you didn't even know it?" When all he saw in return were two pair of eyes, blinking at him and clearly lost, he snorted, "oh, come _on,_ you two, Sam and Dave – Double Dynamite? The Sultans of Sweat?"

Ziva turned to glare at the FBI agent, urging her to act. The younger woman balked, "If they're here to process the scene, I don't think we could..."

"_Agent Capper,"_ Ziva tried her best Gibbs' voice. "You are an FBI agent, and FBI is in charge of this scene – and _that_ includes above everything else the safety of those involved. The very first all-weather vehicle you see, FBI or sheriff, you _order_ them here – show them your badge if you need to but you _order_ them here. This agent has a serious medical history that will compromise his tolerance for this weather and his injuries and if you don't get moving _now_ I will call Tobias Fornell and have him tell you exactly the same thing!" Ziva heard the rising fear in her own voice, and bit down on her emotions to will the young woman to move. "Go!"

Suddenly aware that Tony was leaning against her, Ziva watched the agent rush out of the small cabin, as an increasingly woozy DiNozzo murmured, "nice. You have such a way with scared baby agents. We'll have to get you a Probie of your own one of these days..."

Ziva huffed out her frustration as she took one last look out the window to watch Capper hurry back up the rise, fighting the snow and the mud under it, to head back to the road and the wealth of vehicles waiting there. Finally turning back to Tony, she felt another wave of worry for him as he leaned heavily against her. He was stilling; his shivering was actually slowing down, and instinctively she knew that wasn't good – not when he was still wet and cold. "Tony?" She got no response. "Tony!" His murmur wasn't lucid.

With a low growl of frustration, Ziva shifted slightly so she still could support him but reach the zipper of her parka. Yanking the zipper down and shimmying out of the down parka, she worked it around Tony like a blanket, blinking a little at just how cold it was around her, even sheltered from the wind. "You _would_ lose yourself in a blizzard," she chided him, her fear for her partner driving her babbling as she willed him to just hang on a little longer. "Because in Mossad they dropped us off in the dessert, and out at sea, and in the forest and in caves, and willed us to survive long enough to make it back. When we get back I will call my father and tell him they need to add arctic training to any officer who will be sent out of the region." She paused the moment to see if he reacted, and when he did not, another little bubble of fear for him rose in her chest as she thought she heard the beginnings of a dangerous rattle in his. "Oh, Tony, stay with me," she urged, low, drawing her arms around him and holding him close, hoping that some of her own warmth could permeate his chilled form where she pulled him against her chest. She even found herself rocking a little and humming an old, forgotten tune, helpless to do more and finding herself on autopilot as she waited for the deputy, hoping he would have the good sense to figure out how they could get Tony up the hillside to the waiting vehicle...

"...you ... mean it?"

At the reedy, whispered words, Ziva pulled him tighter and felt a grin cross her lips as he fought to hang in with her. "Yes, Tony, I mean it. They will call it the 'Very Special Agent Blizzard Survival Training,' and you will get to go to Tel Aviv every summer to teach the new recruits." When he didn't reply, she shook him a little, and tried calling his name – more than once – but he was unresponsive. Her victory short-lived, Ziva now jostled him and rocked him and even sang to him again, to rouse him and keep him with her, but it was as if once help had arrived for the girls he'd rescued, Tony knew he could let go, and slipped into the oblivion of unconsciousness. She was afraid to let him sleep; she didn't know if exposure was like a head injury, when sleep could be harmful, but he had been exhausted hours ago and was definitely shocky now, and his breathing had become raspy. He needed real medical attention soon, and all she could do was to shiver herself with the cold, hold him close and offer the same lullabies her mother had sung to her, so many years ago, when she was sick or sad or afraid. She wasn't sure if she did it more for him or for herself.

The minutes seemed to stretch on interminably, but finally, Ziva was able to hear purposeful movement amid the strengthening wind, and she watched as Agent Capper and a huge bear of a deputy finally came back around the bend and down the hill. The deputy, to Ziva's relief, was pulling behind him a sort of pallet, a slightly curved metal piece the size of a door, with a nylon rope loop fixed to it – the sort of rescue sled she'd seen in first aid stations at skiing resorts, just the thing to let them pull even an unconscious Tony out of there. Ziva half-sang, half-murmured in Tony's ear that he would be warm again soon and getting medical attention, and as they loaded him onto the pallet she did all she could to help around her own shivering.

The rest was a blur as the big deputy, clearly a country boy used to pulling tractors out of bogs and lost calves out of snowbanks, made his way up a long and zigzagging path, frustrating Ziva with his plodding, indirect route until she saw it was the most expedient for pulling motionless, solid mass like Tony up a slippery hill. The man wasn't much more communicative than Gibbs, but as he pointed her to the back of his four by four, already running and at least forty degrees warmer inside with the heater cranked up full blast, he told her there was a blanket in the back, nodding for her to crawl in so he could manhandle an all but unconscious DiNozzo into the back seat with her. That accomplished, he shut the door on the pair of them in the back, climbed into the driver's seat and caught her eye in the rear view mirror. "Hang on, ma'am," he said with a slow, easy smile. "I'm gonna get your boy there to the hospital before you know it."

And as she cradled Tony's head on her lap, and as the deputy pulled out onto the rural road and began eating up distance just as if he were Mossad-trained, Ziva finally started to relax and trust that her foolhardy, pigheaded, brave and big-hearted partner might just come out of this latest adventure in one piece.

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: thanks for your interest! Biting my nails on this chapter in hope that it works for everyone the way I hope it will. :}

To those of you who reviewed, thank you! Still hope to hear from you, especially your reactions to this part... :D

**Spumoni**

Part II

As compared to other waiting room vigils she'd sat, Ziva had to admit to herself that this one was one of the less stressful, at least once she'd spoken with Ducky, who, within eight minutes, had gotten Tony's pulmonologist on the phone with the physician on duty at the small, rural trauma center – and really, Tony _did_ have a doctor named Brad Pitt, after all? – and, thereafter, with her. And Tony's Dr. Pitt assured Ziva that all signs pointed to an early but manageable bronchial infection that he predicted would be less likely to slow Tony down than the laceration they were preparing to repair, as soon as they finished bringing his temperature up to near-normal.

As she waited with him, Ziva reflected on what a difference bullets or bombs made to the mix: of course Tony's lethargy and threatened hypothermia were nothing to sneeze at (a measure of her mood was her making a mental note to work that near-pun into a conversation with him as soon as possible), but she was comforted by her last conversation with Ducky, who, upon reviewing the intake notes he'd been e-mailed by the hospital staff, was clucking about the "foolhardy lad" and his plans to give him "a stern talking to" when he awoke, the doctor's voice carrying concern more with the agent's repeated failure to consider his own welfare than with his chances of survival. _He would be fine, _Ziva interpreted.

He'd been woozy and more asleep than awake, but the look she saw in his eyes one of those moments when he _was_ awake, a vulnerable, apprehensive look, convinced Ziva she would not leave his side. _He almost died of the plague,_ she reminded herself yet again, _and the worst of that time was in a hospital, probably feeling as if his lungs were betraying him ... any rasp or wheeze would probably be frightening, even now..._

She looked down at her hand, firmly wrapped around his, and shifted it a little to hold it even closer. She let her eyes flicker up to his face, taking in the familiar features now relaxed in sleep. She'd seen him asleep before of course, undercover and elsewhere, even in the squad room, but this time was different. Was it the trauma? His exhaustion? Or the sterile glare of the hospital cubicle?

...or was it _her?_

She blinked away her thoughts as one of the medical staff came in pushing a small rolling table prepared with what she recognized as a suture tray. "Still pretty groggy, is he?"

Ziva smiled and nodded. "More asleep than awake."

"Well, he had a day, I hear," the woman smiled up at her. "Found five babies changed to the floor of some hunter's shed? This man's a hero."

Ziva opened her mouth to correct the woman, that it had not been babies involved at all, but children between nine and thirteen years old, until she saw her expression as she looked at her patient and realized that this kind soul would see _all _children – maybe even some well into adulthood – as "babies." Ziva smiled to herself and nodded. "Yes, he is," she agreed softly.

At which the "hero" managed a wide, dopey grin. "You're a witness, Suzanne," he mumbled, after opening an eye only long enough to see which of the several staff members had come in. "Ziva David thinks I'm a hero."

Ziva rolled her eyes to avoid chuckling. _And even in this condition he has learned the names of the people here_, she noted. "Did his doctor tell you all that he gets quite demented with pain-killers?" she asked 'Suzanne.' At the woman's questioning glance in return, she quickly added, "oh, he is not at all dangerous, just ... slaphappy."

"'Slaphappy?'" Tony grumbled. "How is it you still turn around basic English but you know 'slaphappy?'"

"Because I work with _you_, Tony," she assured him.

* * *

><p>It was a testament to how much he needed to spend the night under medical observation that Tony didn't rouse enough to complain about staying when they moved him out of the emergency department to a room on the small hospital's second floor. Assured that between the medication and his hours without sleep, Agent DiNozzo would probably sleep away his first twelve hours of the twenty four Brad wanted him on IV antibiotics and under observation, Ziva nonetheless curled up in the small but surprisingly comfortable chair in his room, not wanting him to be alone. At some point late the next morning one of the nurses she'd met hours before gently shook her awake, suggested she go grab a bite from the cafeteria on the first floor, and volunteered to wait with Tony until she got back.<p>

Ziva shrugged, blinking in a bit of surprise that not only Tony but she had slept through much of the morning. "I am fine," she asserted.

The man winked, not buying it. "Go. We're a pretty small town, if you haven't noticed, and you two are celebrities, what with catching that guy. You order what you want; they won't take your money."

Ziva wondered how the nurse could have guessed that all she had with her was her phone, that her backpack was still in the FBI's 4 x 4, and Tony's was who knew where. Her stomach had been rumbling for several hours, and she felt the need for some coffee to face the day. She relented, "thank you. Maybe some coffee..."

"Eat, too. That's an order," the man grinned. "Even without your stomach growling I know how long you've been here – no telling when you ate before you arrived." He paused only another moment before he laughed, "go!"

Ziva smiled sheepishly and nodded. With a step closer to a still-drowsing Tony, she took his hand to squeeze it gently. "Tony, I will be back in a few minutes – I am just going downstairs for coffee."

A drunken beam crossed his features as he stirred and stretched, trying to hide his grimace as he did. "Bring me one?" he murmured.

With a quick glance to the nurse who shrugged and nodded his approval, Ziva turned back to him. "Alright, I will bring you a coffee," she agreed.

She stepped out into the hall and, pulling out her phone on the way, saw with a start that she had missed several calls – switching her ringer off so it wouldn't disturb Tony, she apparently missed the vibrate setting to switch it all the way silent. As she headed to the cafeteria she tried Gibbs first, but his phone went immediately to voice mail. With a surprised frown, she tried Ducky next, who hadn't stopped with her number when he couldn't reach her, and had been assured by the hospital staff they both were doing well. "I was told he had a comfortable night, and that he barely roused even when they brought in the breathing treatment Brad ordered."

Ziva nodded into the phone as she entered the cafeteria, eying the choices before she got in line. "They said it was just a precaution," she added, hoping for Ducky's confirmation – which she received.

"Indeed – he will be fine, my dear. At this point it's a matter of speeding his recovery more than a question of recovery itself. And," the Scotsman added, "the storm has finally moved on. Jethro called about an hour ago to say that the airport has opened, and he will catch the next available flight back. He anticipates being there by dinnertime, if not before."

Her eyebrows went up. "He is not driving back?"

Ducky chuckled. "Apparently Jackson was able to convince him that the roads would be impassable longer than the skies would be, although I suspect it might have been Jack's rather clever ploy to get Jethro to come back to finish his visit. He knows Jethro would never leave his prized Chevrolet in Stillwater longer than he had to."

Ziva smiled at his words and felt herself relax. Not only his demeanor was comforting; to know that Ducky was satisfied that all would be well let her believe it, too. "Thank you, Ducky," she breathed softly.

"Of course, my dear." With a paternal cluck, he added, "you might consider going home yourself and getting some sleep."

"I am fine – unlike Tony, I went straight home after we closed our last case and I slept through the next morning. I caught up before I went out in the blizzard."

Ducky smiled to himself, hearing the protectiveness in her voice for her partner that he suspected she herself had not heard. "Tony will be _fine_ now, Ziva," he said again. "Much of this is simply precautionary, given Anthony's history, but a good portion of it would be provided to anyone who'd been out in the elements as he was." At her sigh, the doctor explained, "the medications make him more comfortable, but more importantly for our Anthony, have let him catch up on the sleep he so desperately needed after the week you all had, and needed even more after his more recent adventures. They'll release him as soon as they see that the antibiotics have begun their work."

As she ended the call with Ducky, Ziva felt herself begin put this threat to her partner behind her, and she got in line to take two apples, a banana, a small package of nuts and two coffees to the register. Looking around at the Christmas decorations along the walls, and suddenly registering that there had been some along halls she had passed through as well, she realized that Tony's Christmas had been spent out in the elements, making it possible for the girls to reunite with their families on Christmas – indeed, being a hero. Her thoughts remained on her partner until the line moved up and she was facing the cashier. "I am sorry," she began, "I have no money, but my boss will be here soon and..."

"No charge," the matronly woman smiled. "You're that Navy cop who came in with Agent DiNozzo, aren't you? It's on the house."

Ziva grinned at the woman's infectious smile and her pronouncement, impressed that she even knew Tony by name. "Thank you," she nodded, "but...".

"Thank _you,_ honey," the woman leaned closer. "My nephew's a Marine. I know what you do for those boys and girls," she added with a twinkle.

Suddenly touched with the connection, Ziva nodded again, silently, then smiled her thanks. Turning back, Ziva hurried back to Tony's room. No matter how welcoming and caring everyone had been, Ziva found herself in a hurry to get back home, to DC, to her place, to NCIS. She suspected that once he was among the lucid, Tony would be more than ready for that, too.

* * *

><p>By the time she got back to his room, Tony had conked out again. She went to the nurse's station and managed from the nurse who had just seen Tony that everything was still looking good for an early evening release. Satisfied, Ziva went back to Tony's room, downed her small meal and coffee, and leaned back to relax as Tony slept. Even the coffee hadn't kept her from nodding off again after a long night and an eventful week, and she dozed lightly until she heard a familiar voice.<p>

"...hey hey hey ... Sleeping Beauty. Should we get you a room too?"

Ziva blinked to see Tony actually sitting up, eyes fully open and maybe a little too bright, smiling at her expectantly. "You're awake," she observed, stretching to get up and come to his side.

"Of course I'm awake," he grinned, "_you_ were sleeping. Which means you were _snoring_..." He watched her as she came close, and said expansively, "they wanted to rush you down to the ER. They were afraid you were in terrible pain."

"You are not nearly as funny as you think you are," she declared, and narrowed her eyes at him. "And even after being warned, they gave you painkillers?" She sighed. He merely batted his eyes at her, and she rolled hers. "Maybe they will sedate you for the ride home."

"I'm fine to go home," he protested.

"You may be fine, but your driver may have their sanity stretched to the breaking point if you are still under the influence." His response this time was to flash a charming smile at her, and she relented. "Other than that – how are you feeling?"

"Fine," he chirped. "Why am I here, anyway? Why are _any_ of us here?" He waggled his eyebrows before adding, "and where _is_ 'here?'"

"Do you not remember what happened?" she asked.

"Oh, I remember," he nodded, sagely, his eyes becoming glassy with memory.

She waited. And watched. And continued to wait as Tony simply beamed, thoughts a million miles away, maybe even forgetting she was there. Ziva fought back a chuckle at his loopiness and prodded, skeptically, "and what _do_ you remember, Tony?"

"You were _singing_ to me," he said immediately, his grin triumphant.

"I was not!" she immediately denied until it dawned on her that, in fact, she had done just that. "I merely wanted to keep you awake," she corrected, protesting mildly. "It wasn't truly singing. And I was also poking you and shaking you..."

"Actually, you were _hugging_ me – sort of. Rocking me. _Singing_ to me." His eyes danced in memory as he added, "I remember." He lay back against the pillows with a smirk. "I _liked_ it."

"You should not make it into anything but what it was, Tony," she tried to chide, but she found she was still so relieved to see him doing well, and now back to being _Tony_, even if he was silly with medication, that her voice carried more affection than consternation.

"It was like ..." He looked up at the ceiling, a childlike glee in his expression as he searched for just the right words, "like ... you were _serenading_ me." He looked back her, pleased with his pronouncement.

She sputtered with poorly-hidden laughter, "it was nothing of the kind!"

He snorted, a sort of a soft, drunken sound to it. "Just because of your song choice. I mean, it was all lovely, what I recall of it. But they sounded like ... _lullabies_, and that's not serenading. Not _really_. You want serenading, you need to go back to show tunes. Especially the ones from those musicals from the '50s and '60s and after..."

"I wasn't _trying_ to serenade you!" she argued.

"They were way before my time. _Waaay_ before my time," Tony drawled, no indication that he'd heard anything she had said, "'cos when I was actually dragged along to see some shows in the City as a kid, they weren't really doing those mushy romantic ballads anymore, but lucky for me – and, by extension, lucky for _you_ –" he waggled his eyebrows at her, "they made movies of those musicals and _voilà_, little Anthony was able to learn what _real_ serenading is all about."

"Maybe you should save it for..."

"_I have often waaaalked down that street before,_" Tony started singing, "_but the pavement always stayed b'neath my feet before. And..._" He faltered only for a moment, frowning to remember the lyrics, to then try, _"and then here am I ... several stories high..."_

"You certainly _are_," she rolled her eyes, trying to hide her amusement.

"What?" Tony looked back to her, his expression softening as he met her eyes. "You know, Zeeee-vah, out there, in all that ice and wind ... it occurred to me that I might never see your beautiful face again," he said softly. Ziva blinked in complete surprise, given the wildly swinging changes in his behavior, and opened her mouth to speak, when Tony reached for her hand, tucked his chin into his chest and started, so low his voice rumbled with almost no real note to it, _"Oooold Maaan RIIIVer..."_

"What?" This time it was Ziva who asked, nearly as rattled now by his insanity as she'd been touched by his seeming admission moments before.

"Oh, no, you're right; not really a serenading tune. So how about..." he scrunched up his face for a moment, thinking, then quickly relaxing with his inspiration. _"There were bellllls on a hiiill, but I never HEARD them ringing... no I never heard them at all, 'til there was youuuuuuu..."_

"Tony, that's nice, but maybe you should be getting some..."

"_There were BIRDS ... in the sky ... but I never SAW them winging, no I..."_ He paused again. "'Winging?' Really? That can't be right, can it?"

"Tony, you were up quite late, and you have been through..."

"Late?" He leered. _"Miiiiiddddnniiiiiiiggh, not a SOUND on the paaaaavemennnt..."_

She tried not to laugh again and stood. "Tony, I am going to get one of your nurses. I think they may need to adjust your medication..."

"Ziva?" he interrupted her, suddenly quieter. She stopped, looking back to him and seeing _that_ look again, hesitated. His eyes were a lighter, clearer green than she had seen in a long time, and she blinked, waiting.

But this time he said nothing, just kept looking into her eyes, maybe even a bit longingly. After several moments, she prompted, "Yes, Tony?"

He suddenly beamed. An enormous, wide beam crossed his face as he nodded enthusiastically, "yeah!" and started humming for all he was worth, "hmmm hmmm hmm hmm hhm hmm hhmm _Maria_, uhm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm _MaRIa ... Tony Tony TONY..._"

"Tony!" Ziva pounced, covering his lips with her fingers to quiet him and laughing outright now at his insanity, found herself nose to nose with him, his wide green eyes staring into hers. She drew a deep breath and, unable to stop smiling back at his beaming grin, urged "I am delighted that you are back, and safe, and that you are feeling ... better."

"Me, too," he agreed.

"But if you want to be released this evening as they promised, you need to _rest_... I can wait until you are back home to be serenaded." She found herself patting his shoulder, and he grabbed for her hand again. Even on one of his good days she could have snatched it back before he made contact, and given the condition he was in at the moment, he would never have reached her if she didn't allow it. But she let him gather her hand in his, just to watch him smile again. And when he did, and saw she smiled back, he brought it to his chest.

"Promise?" he asked, his smile even wider.

"Promise," she agreed...

... and watched as his eyes twinkled in response, his brows raised and he took another deep breath. _"Promises, promises, I'm all through with promises now; I don't know HOOWWWW I got the NERVE..."_

And suddenly a familiar force of nature swept into the room.

"Gibbs!" Tony beamed even wider. "And pizza!"

"Don't tell me I came all the way down from Pennsylvania in a blizzard just to hear you singing show tunes, DiNozzo." Gibbs stood by the bed, smelling of cold winter wind and warm pepperoni. "Although that might be a first..." he actually allowed a small grin to find both his agents largely intact.

"Gibbs," Ziva sighed with a grin, looking relieved. She knew he was on his way, but even so was surprised at his appearance, at least like this, his version of smiling and even relaxed even before he'd had a chance to check out Tony for himself. That and the pizza must mean he'd spoken to Ducky again to know that Tony was all but recovered, simply waiting for Brad to do another set of tests and possibly adjust his medication.

"Sit Rep," he looked to Ziva expectantly.

"Gibbs, I was thinking of telling the nurses they should check his medication, he is ... well, like Tony on medication."

Gibbs nodded sagely and lifted her go-bag along with Tony's. "Nurse out there said you could use their locker room if you wanted. They think it will be another couple hours before we can spring DiNozzo and head back."

"_Thank_ you," she breathed, happy for Gibbs to relieve her for a few minutes. "Tony – I will be back. You do not need to sing for Gibbs, but..." she turned to her boss with a sly look, then turned back to her partner. "He may enjoy it as well."

With that, she breezed out of the room.

Gibbs watched her as she left, then paused a moment, staring at the floor thoughtfully before he dropped the pizza on a nearby table and looked back up to his senior field agent.

At the eye contact, Tony smiled charmingly. "Hey Boss."

Gibbs nodded, and came closer to smirk down at him. "How ya feelin,' DiNozzo?"

"Oh. Good. You know."

"Yeah, I know..." Gibbs sat in the chair near the bed, dropped DiNozzo's bag in front of him. After another couple moments of silence, Gibbs looked up to his agent and said, "_and_ I know that Ducky and Brad worked out that whole ... medication thing ... for you, about ten months ago."

"Yeah?" Tony blinked at his boss, not dropping the eye contact or the smile, affecting innocence for as long as he could.

"Yeah," Gibbs drawled, watching his second watching him. His mouth curled up in an iconic, Gibbs-who-caught-the-canary look and slowly leaned toward the bed, his elbows on his knees, and asked, softly, cocking his head in curiosity. "New mediation regimen – no more loopy DiNozzo."

"No?"

"No," Gibbs shook his head, not dropping his grin, but wondering if he didn't already know the answer he sought before he even asked. "So, Tony," he all but whispered, "what was all that you pulled on Ziva just now?"

_Pt. III coming soon!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you for all the reviews, alerts & favorites! Makes the dreary work week easier to take. :}

This is all for now with this storyline, so am marking this complete with this chapter. But I never say never, and I like the promise of more to come in this one. All reviews and comments appreciated.

**Spumoni**

Part III

Gibbs was waiting for his response, and Tony knew that even when he was one hundred percent – which he wasn't quite yet – he couldn't withstand the power of the Gibbs Gaze (a deceptively gentler but, as he lectured his Probies, no less deadly version of the Gibbs' Glare). He smiled vacuously and shrugged, "Boss?"

Gibbs simply continued to stare at him, grey eyebrows hitching up slightly.

"Y'know, I really _am_ hungry," he tried deflecting, although he could just hear McGee intoning _'resistance is futile'_ even as he did. "Is that pepperoni, sausage and extra cheese?"

"Mmm-hmm." Gibbs watched him, unmoving, until after a long moment he reached over to roll the nearby bed table, bearing the pizza, toward his agent.

Tony opened the box with the enthusiasm of a hungry sixteen year old. "Thanks, Boss! Real food..." He wrestled a large slice free and shoved the front half into his mouth. "Mmmff, 'ill hot, 'oo..." he managed around the cheese and sausage.

"So, Tony..." Gibbs' tone and tiny smile would make the uninitiated think he had the patience of a saint. His team knew it meant anything but. "Why'd you lie to your partner?"

"It wasn't exactly _lying_, Boss, just..."

Gibbs grinned, and Tony gave himself a mental head-slap. _Played like the greenest dirtbag, and you fell for it, DiNozzo,_ he groaned inwardly. His immediate protest had been as good as an admission to Gibbs that he'd done something just short of it. "No fair, Boss," he conceded he'd been made. "You know my defenses are down."

"Because of the hypothermia, or the bronchitis, or the pizza?"

"All three – even worse." DiNozzo relaxed into a smaller but more genuine grin. He knew he'd be forced to talk. But if the Boss was fighting dirty, so would he. He'd make Gibbs ask once more – so gulped down the rest of his first slice and reached for a second.

A hand shot out to clap down the lid of the pizza box and Gibbs' eyes narrowed. At that point, if Tony had any question before, he didn't now: Gibbs knew _exactly_ what it was all about. So he did what any self-respecting DiNozzo would do.

He caved.

"Yeah, okay," he muttered, then fell silent for a moment as he collected this thoughts. "Boss ..." he began, thoughtfully. "You ever notice that, no matter how good she is at multi-tasking, Ziva can't be exasperated with me and embarrassed at herself at the same time?"

Tony allowed himself just a slight bit of pride at the expression his response had raised on Gibbs' face – it wasn't what he'd expected. Even better, after the initial surprise, there might be the smallest glimmer of approval, or – something – on his mentor's face, and Gibbs' hand lifted from the pizza box, snaked inside to grab his own piece, and pulled out and away, allowing the lid to lift tantalizingly before Tony again. With that affirmation, Tony grinned again, and he pulled out another piece of pizza. He began speaking, though, before he took his next bite.

"Ziva showed up out there, in the woods, before the ambulance came that was supposed to bring me here. I guess I was looking pretty rough because she sort of flipped out on the FBI agent and got all mother bear on me. I mean, Boss, she was all huggy and singing and..." He watched Gibbs carefully for his reaction and, seeing an understanding dawn in the Marine's eyes, he nodded and went on, "and when she showed up here, I guess she was pretty worried and hung around driving the medical people crazy until Brad and Ducky convinced her I was okay."

DiNozzo's voice trailed off, clearly reflecting on what he'd just said, making Gibbs wonder for a moment if he was still under the effects of his past hours. The agent's eyes refocused on him again then, and he realized it wasn't the effects of the weather that had DiNozzo distracted.

"When she came in, she..." Tony searched for the right word, and finally shrugged, "she seemed like she was pretty happy that I was going to thaw out okay, but maybe wasn't sure how to act, what with all she did out there. So ... I pushed it. And it just sort of happened, she thought I was acting goofy because of the painkillers and that was as easy as anything to use. It made her laugh, and, maybe, forget what _she _had done, since I was acting pretty loony."

Gibbs accepted the explanation with a silent nod, waiting for more. The whole situation – Ziva's worry, Tony's response, all the other events leading up to this – he knew more was coming. He supposed, fleetingly, that if the undercurrent between the two that had begun so many years ago, from their first, contentious days together, had managed to continue to smolder between them like this, then maybe it needed his respect. He didn't have to like it, he grumbled to himself, but he might at least let DiNozzo make his case.

"Boss..." DiNozzo let his third piece of pizza hover just outside of his mouth as he broached the unthinkable. "You know, I think there's a rule in the 30's somewhere, isn't there, about what happens if someone of your team passes the ten year mark with you, and gets past fifty percent dead at least twice? I think they get to be excused from a rule of their choice. _Especially_ at Christmas."

Despite his best efforts, a bit of a grin escaped the Gunny's steely resolve at the second unexpected opening from his agent that day. "Oh, 's that so, DiNozzo?" he smirked. "You thinkin' of Rule Seven?"

Tony blinked, not thinking of that one, then dismissed it with a small laugh. "No, but that's a pretty good one, being specific when you lie, and it fits, what with the medication thing," Tony nodded, sensing that Gibbs now tried a bit of deflection of his own, and knew the Boss suspected what was coming. His voice softened as he continued his point. "But ... another good one is Rule Five, 'don't waste good.'" He raised his chin a little, serious now. "Ziva and I _could_ be good – as in ... good, _together_. We haven't had much of a chance to find out how good, other than a sort of start at it when you were off playing beach blanket bingo with Mike Franks."

At the glare he got in return, Tony muttered, "okay, not the best movie reference there. Sorry, Boss. Must be that near-fatal hypothermia still has me silly" quickly and low enough he thought he'd get a pass on Rule Six. "But..." he prodded himself to be serious, because it was important – and he needed Gibbs to know just how serious he was. "The last couple of years have been kinda rough ones, for all of us, and a part of that was some of the relationships we let happen. Especially since Ziva came back ..." It was all he needed to say to remind Gibbs that they both questioned Ziva's well-being at times, feeling some worry long after her return from Somalia that she had not allowed herself the support she could have had, offered from several sources. "But even before that, I think maybe she and I both made choices we wouldn't have to have made ... if..."

"If _I_ hadn't come back?"

DiNozzo met Gibbs' eyes at that, slightly surprised, not having thought that far back but quickly remembering that it had been in his thoughts at the time. Without a trace of the usual DiNozzo filters, he said, "I might have put it a little differently, Boss, but ... yeah, if the team had stayed as it was then, without you. I guess that would have been worse, not just co-workers, but with me as her supervisor?" He paused, and when Gibbs didn't kill him right then with his near-admission, went on. "But you are back, so maybe it's more accurate to say if it wasn't for Rule Twelve. I mean, c'mon, Boss – C.I. Ray? _Really?_"

"Is he so different from you?"

"That hurts, Boss."

Gibbs smirked at that, and stretched over to lift another piece of pizza from the box. "Y'know, DiNozzo, he's not so different, really. He was a Fed, in law enforcement..."

"He was a slimeball spook!"

"I didn't say he was _exactly_ like you." Gibbs was silent and, in true testament that he was not in fact under the influence of any pain meds, Tony was silent, too, watching Gibbs think things through. DiNozzo was fluent enough in 'Gibbs' to know he'd made his point, and it was being considered. After a few moments, Gibbs, sighed softly and said, "you know why there's a Rule Twelve, don't you?"

"Jenny?"

_Maybe too direct,_ Tony thought he saw a tiny wince at the name. But before he could say more, Gibbs said, "yeah, but what _about_ Jenny, and the Rule? There were several reasons that Rule 12 needed to be added, any one of which could end up destroying my team, and Tony, I _want_ my team to stay just as good as it is."

"I get that, Boss, and on the clock, you know both Ziva and I can keep our heads on straight."

"I _do?_ Hell, DiNozzo, I'm not always sure about that _now._"

With the way he'd grumbled that, Tony grinned, feeling a surge of hope with Gibbs actually cracking wise in the middle of this conversation. He urged, "I think part of Ziva's Mossad training was focusing on the job after steamy nights in the dessert with team-mates, wasn't it? And after ten years of head-slaps I'm pretty good at getting on track when I need to be."

It wasn't silent as long this time before Gibbs sighed, "yeah, Tony, you are." As Gibbs drew another breath, DiNozzo sensed a shift in the universe and actually began to suspect Gibbs was going to grant him his exemption. "It's not the day to day stuff that I worry about. You get that? It's when there are extreme circumstances – what will one of you do when the other is in danger? You gonna make reasonable choices, or are you going to go all Rambo because of who it is?"

The DiNozzo smirk appeared immediately. "I think we're already reacting how we're gonna react, Boss. At least I am. Dating or not, I feel about her what I feel, and when something happens ... I don't know that I'll react differently. I mean, hell, there was that whole trip to Africa thing..."

"And if she was the mother of your children?"

Tony's eyes went wider, and he protested, "hey Boss, I was just talking _dating_ here..."

"Rule Twelve, DiNozzo. Dating leads to other things, and if you're not willing to think it all though, you're not ready to break it." Beyond the push-back, Gibbs saw the truth in his senior agent's eyes, that exactly that – and more – had crossed _his_ mind, too. "The team's been broken up three times now since you came to NCIS, Tony. Once was my fault, once was Vance's, and once was Rivkin's. You want the next one to be because you and Ziva wanted to hook up and you find out you can't do both?"

"Of course not," Tony murmured. "But Boss ..." he sighed. "You know how I feel about the team, and you, and everything you've done for me. But ... I think maybe you know how I feel about Ziva, too, and if I don't try..." He paused. "I don't think I want to end up retired and never having given it a fair chance, at least."

"What if you try and it doesn't work out, huh? Then what? Can the two of you continue on the same team and partner the way you've been, if you've gone through _that?_"

At his words, Tony's eyes shifted and Gibbs could see that his second had found the real genesis of Rule Twelve: dating a co-worker is nothing compared to what happens between partners after breaking things off. To his credit, DiNozzo was clearly considering just how difficult that could be, and he nodded, sagely. After another moment he snorted out a soft laugh. "Yeah, I see what you mean." He was quiet for another few moments, then shrugged. "So, for the team, the best bet is no dating, period. But for the team _members_, for two of them who have had a bad few years and have a chance at making something _right_, after all of it, that's been there under their noses for a lot of years and _still_ is good, still makes sense and has so much potential..."

The green eyes lifted back to Gibbs' blue, and the team leader could see that DiNozzo had given this a lot of thought, had given most of the consequences the same careful analysis he might give a puzzling case, and still wanted to try. He knew of Tony's deep affection for the team and pride for them all, and knew that he wouldn't risk another split on a whim. More than any of it, though – Gibbs sensed that soon, maybe not this minute, but _soon_, in a matter of weeks, even days, if he didn't at least blink at Rule Twelve where David and DiNozzo were concerned, he'd have Tony's transfer papers on his desk. His senior agent knew better than to threaten when he wasn't ready to act, but Gibbs sensed it, sensed that at this point in their lives, Tony's feelings for Ziva would trump his need to stay on the team, and if he was forced to choose he'd get himself rotated to another team so he could see her.

Gibbs actually sighed again. "You really were past fifty percent dead this time again, too?"

Tony hesitated, sensing that something monumental had just occurred. Blinking a bit, he fell into the expected response. "Yeah, I think so. I'm pretty sure I can get Brad to write me a work excuse that I was more than fifty percent dead, if you need it."

"I'm sure you could. I don't think you've called in all the favors yet he still owes you for breaking your leg." Gibbs was silent for another moment, then shook his head, "it never occurred to you that you couldn't just invoke Rule Eighteen and avoid all of this?"

Tony laughed softly. "Don't think it didn't occur to me. It did. A _lot_. But..." He fell silent, watching his boss, wanting to wait for more but knowing nothing more would be said unless he pressed. "Boss?" He looked for the right words, but wasn't sure what he could say at this point. "Not for this. Rule Eighteen isn't a guarantee that you get forgiven. I wouldn't want to bring this on the team – your team – or on Ziva, without ... well, I guess I can't really say without your _blessing_, but I ..."

"How about just being happy you get to break a Rule without getting fired?"

The grin Gibbs saw in return was brighter than the brightest Christmas star. "I can't think of anything that would make me happier, Boss."

"Than what?"

Ziva appeared back in the doorway, clothes changed and, despite her best efforts, her hair slightly damp from her quick shower and curling softly around her face. "Happier than what, Tony?" she repeated. When she saw both men turn to her quickly, as if startled, her curiosity soared. "What? Did I miss something?" She came over to the bed, flipped back the lid of the pizza box and helped herself to a large piece.

"Just the word that Tony's being sprung in an hour or so." When he sensed DiNozzo's mouth drop a bit in surprise, and heard a small grunt of frustration that he hadn't been told sooner, Gibbs hid his smile. "But – they want someone with him, especially to make sure he gets those breathing treatments and they're done right. I'd make him come bunk with me, but Jack said he'd hold my car hostage 'til I got back." He looked up to the newest member of his team, and lifted an eyebrow. "Did you have any plans for the rest of your time off?"

Ziva shook her head quickly, swallowing a bit of pizza. "No," she then said, actually looking satisfied with the prospect. "He can stay with me."

"No, guys, wait," the patient protested. "I just want to go home to my own little place ... with my own TV and movies and..."

"Y'know, he's got a guestroom. It's not too bad," Gibbs was shrugging toward Ziva. "He might be easier to manage if he was at his own place."

She smiled around another bite, looking smug. "That will do."

"Hey," Tony inserted, but when both Gibbs and Ziva looked to him, waiting, he simply frowned and grumped, "I _am_ here. And conscious. And I don't need a babysitter."

"I will cook for you, Tony. If you like. For being a hero," she finally smiled.

"Oh." His eyebrows went high, and he grinned. "Well, if you insist..." He looked much less perturbed about having a nursemaid than he had moments before.

"Ziva, if you want to go home and pack a bag for a few days at Tony's, take the sedan. One of the local LEOs moved Tony's car into town to their station's lot, and said to call when he's ready to head home and someone would come by, give us a ride to his car."

She looked pleased with the unexpected offer, and nodded. "How many days did they say he needs someone to help him?"

Gibbs managed to keep his expression neutral as Tony again made a face at being discussed as if he weren't in the room. "Brad wanted a week. I think maybe a couple nights will be enough. Brad has enough experience with Tony that he ...exaggerates, sometimes."

At that, Ziva glanced to Tony, who apparently knew about his doctor's deception and simply rolled his eyes. "Then I will pack for three," she announced. "Just in case." She put her hand out toward Gibbs. "Keys?"

He pulled out a pair of keys with their familiar NCIS-numbered tag from the motor pool and tossed them toward her. She snatched them out of the air and reached in the box for another slice. "Probably only Charger in the parking lot," Gibbs said. "Out the front to the left, about half way down the front row."

"I will find it. And, I will be at your place waiting for you, Tony – I will fluff your pillows and make sure your condo is nice and warm and dry." She was enjoying her role as nursemaid a little too much, and Tony couldn't let it go by without his expected grumbling. But as he did, he stole another glance at Gibbs, who clearly knew just what he was doing. Tony felt a bit of wonder to see it: after all the years of Rule 12 being one of the Big Ones, Gibbs not only was letting him break it – he was setting them up for just that.

As Tony was considering this new development, he realized that Ziva was still by his bed, now looking at him closely. He turned on the charm and threw her a sunny smile. "Did you want some more serenading?" he offered. "Maybe when you're cooking for me?"

Once more, he saw the desired result as she dismissed him as being overly-medicated and picked up her go-bag to leave. As she did, however, she paused by Gibbs and said quietly, "perhaps Ducky could talk with his doctors, Gibbs? Certainly there is something they could give him for the pain that is not so ... debilitating, yes?"

Gibbs nodded, not meeting her eyes, and grunted something unintelligible. Apparently satisfied, Ziva left, and Gibbs looked directly at his second, raising his eyebrows expectantly. DiNozzo smirked. "Got it, Boss."

"You'd better," the Gunny warned, his voice low. "Don't make me regret what I just did, DiNozzo."

The megawatt grin was back. "I ... _we_ ... won't let you down," a very happy special agent assured him, also quietly, his ninja not yet out of the building. " ... assuming, of course, that Ziva is interested."

"You're not much of an investigator if you have any doubt of that." Gibbs knew he'd see the grin light up even more, if that were possible. As he did, he shook his head and muttered, "just means I have to add another damn Rule."

DiNozzo's eyebrows went up in question, sure that he saw his boss trying to hide his own smirk around another bite of pizza. "Yeah?"

Gibbs nodded. "Not sure what number to give it, though. Maybe Rule Fourteen, between the 'no lawyers' rule and the rule about working as a team – those may be good reminders." He paused again, this time for effect, looking DiNozzo hard in the eye. "Yeah. Rule Fourteen: _no serenading on duty."_


End file.
